


paper cut

by Hope



Category: 21 Jump Street, Firefly, Scrubs, Serenity (2005)
Genre: Crack Fic, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-09
Updated: 2005-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-02 00:13:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope/pseuds/Hope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>http://www.livejournal.com/users/monkeycrackmary/542295.html<br/>http://hopeful-fiction.livejournal.com/39023.html</p></blockquote>





	paper cut

Simon realises his behaviour could be misconstrued as blatant, mindless adoration; but then he could just be trying to get into the janitor’s good books by helping him polish the floor. With his stomach.

There’s a long-suffering sigh from above him, and he glances upwards.

“What is it now, Simone?”

He scrambles to his feet, basking in the vitamin-E laden glow of attention. “I,” he says. “Er–”

“You’ve swallowed your pager? Your heart is trying to send me a wave, and something keeps on _inter_–” Cox punctuates it with broad-sided thwaps to Simon’s head. “–_fering_ with the signal?”

“It’s my patient in twelve D,” Simon finally manages to get out in a rush. “He came into trauma, and–”

Cox starts walking, quickly, white coat flapping out behind him like the wings of an angel. Simon trots to keep up, clutching his datapad to his chest in an attempt to hide the unidentifiable stain he seems to have picked up on his scrubs. Probably something from the floor. Have to speak to the janitor about that.

“Remind me again, Samantha, why I care?”

“It’s just– He–” Simon dodges another head-thwap, and simultaneously manages to stop just in time to avoid slamming into the back of Cox as he gives way to a cart being wheeled out of the elevator. “It’s a papercut.” There. It’s out, all in a rush, like ripping a derma-bandage off. Like waxing body hair.

“A papercut.”

Simon tries the desperate-adoration look, begins to drop to the floor again, but Cox manages to halt the movement by grabbing a handful of Simon’s hair. “Newbie–” he begins, and Simon blurts out,

“They’re cops!”

before the no doubt elaborate, admirably crafted sentence can continue any further. Cox raises an eyebrow, then about-faces, heads back into the D-section of the ward. “Top three percent,” he mutters, and Simon fist-pumps the air surreptitiously, then regrets it immediately as the janitor takes that opportunity to shove a wet mop onto his chest, bullseying the stain.

“Sorry,” the janitor deadpans, moving it around a little. “Lemme get that for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> http://www.livejournal.com/users/monkeycrackmary/542295.html  
> http://hopeful-fiction.livejournal.com/39023.html


End file.
